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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22512496">Warmth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/milka121/pseuds/milka121'>milka121</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Promare (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drabble, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Self-Harm, mild dubcon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:35:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>619</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22512496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/milka121/pseuds/milka121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been so long since Lio felt the flames inside him, calling, whispering and laughing, warm and reassuring. He said again and again that it will pass, that feeling of emptiness, that he will overcome it, as he always did with any difficulties that arose.<br/>He doesn’t.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Warmth</h2></a>
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    <p>It’s been so long since Lio felt the flames inside him, calling, whispering and laughing, warm and reassuring. He said again and again that it will pass, that feeling of emptiness, that he will overcome it, as he always did with any difficulties that arose.</p><p>He doesn’t. He cries in the middle of the night and wakes up Galo so many times he has lost count. Galo doesn’t judge him, he never does, just lets Lio sob into his shoulder while he murmurs something into his ear.</p><p>Lio likes those moments. It’s not an inferno he craves, but it’s almost warm and almost enough. He is a starving man and Galo is not and will never make him feel full, but at least the pain stops for a second or two. </p><p>They fuck and it’s lukewarm, but Lio gets drunk on the feeling nonetheless. Galo gasps and tries to catch his breath after he finishes, and Lio ignores that, shoving him inside himself once more, and he’s soft and feels disgusting, but the heat is there, enough, not enough.</p><p>He devours Galo’s time, his focus. He smiles and tells Galo he loves him - not a lie, but not yet the reality, and Galo is weak in the face of that. It’s almost too easy to make him forget his responsibilities with a smile and a shake of his hips. It’s too easy to lead him by the hand to the bedroom and coerce him to fuck him ‘till Lio is screaming and forgets all about the cold.</p><p>Not enough. Never enough.</p><p>He crawls on top Galo’s body and makes him come again, even as Galo tries to push his arms away, but Lio needs it, has to do it, and he says so to Galo.</p><p>Galo’s eyes are big, pupils blown wide by lust and something else Lio can’t quite put a finger on. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.</p><p>Cold, cold seeping into him, under his skin, freezing his flesh. He has to stop it, has to keep Galo with him, always, now, ever, or it will return and leave frost on his bones. </p><p>There are scratches all over his arms from how hard he drags his nails against his skin when Galo is not there, when he feels how his epidermis freezes, infest the rest of his insides. The ones on the soft inside of his elbow and down are gaping, soft, pulsing tissue exposed, blood still dripping. He’s cold. He’s hungry.</p><p>Galo’s eyes watch his every move. He can’t stop Lio from taking a bite of his own flesh, not anymore, not when his arms are bound to their bed. How long since Lio has bound him there? He can’t remember. Everything stinks around him, piss and rot and sweat. Everything but warmth.</p><p>The flesh is sweet, with a sour aftertaste of rot all around it. He yanks at it and he can’t feel the pain, can’t feel the cold as he sees the surface of his bone. </p><p>Galo doesn’t scream. He did, at first, always so sensitive in the face of the pain of another, but that was before Lio got hungry enough to chew through his neck to feel more of that hot blood, soft and warm tissue pulsing under his tongue, in his mouth, inside him.</p><p>But it was so long ago. And now Lio is cold again.</p><p>He chews on his own flesh and relishes in the feeling it brings inside him.</p><p>Galo’s eyes are still watching him when he returns to nibbling on his intestines. There’s so little left of Galo, now. He should have loved him more. Bathed in the warmth more.</p><p>Lio swallows the rotting flesh. And he feels cold. </p>
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